


Understanding

by Thorya



Category: Black Books
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorya/pseuds/Thorya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manny is cleaning the shop when he finds a hidden door. Behind it lies a secret from Bernard and Fran's past that they are trying to keep hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Persiflager](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/gifts).



> Notes with spoilers at the end.
> 
> Credit to [REDACTED] for editing and moral support.

Manny was sweeping the floors. The broom hit a stray button, likely from a costumer’s clothing, which went skittering across the floor and under one of the bookcases. Not to be beaten by a mere button, many tried to get his broom under the bookcase. But it was to no avail. He resorted to a rolled up newspaper which when forced under the edge of the bookcase and moved it back and forth freed no small amount of dust and book shop debris, including 15 pence, a book mark, three pieces of string and 3 corks, but no button. He tried Bernard’s toothbrush, a coat hanger, and even a decrepit vacuum cleaner that Bernard kept buried under a mound of receipts in a coat closet upstairs, but all to no avail. Growing more determined by the second, he began shuffling books from the shelves to neighboring cases.

The bookcase squeaked across the floor as Manny dragged it from the wall and the noise caused Bernard to awake with a start spilling the quarter bottle of wine that had been resting on his lips. “What? Who’s there? We don’t want any.”

Looking at Manny, he lolled back a bit drunkenly, “Oh, it’s you. Can’t you, you, more quietly.” Bernard puts his head back down on the table.

Manny apologized, “Sorry, I was just cleaning behind the bookcases.”

“Oh is that all, well shhh,” Bernard said from the desk. After a brief pause, Bernard sat upright, “What? What? Stop. No more. We don’t clean behind things that costumers don’t see. We don’t even clean in front of them. Put that bookcase back this instant.”

Bernard was up and across the store, between Manny and the space behind the bookcase. He shooed Manny away, “On second thought, you work too hard. You can stop cleaning. In fact, just stop working for the day. We’re closing early. Go home.”

“But it’s barely half ten,” Manny said confused.

Bernard tried to shove Manny towards the door, “Perfect time to close. Barely any customers, they’re all at the bars and the discoteks this time of day.”

Manny shrugged, “Well, suit yourself then. I’ll just grab my coat and go.”

Manny spun around Bernard back towards the bookcase. Bernard blocked his path, “You don’t need a coat, it’s beautiful out.” Lightening cracked and rain beat against the window. Bernard and Manny met eyes, Manny looked quizzical. Bernard patted Manny on the shoulder, “Why live in London if you can’t take a little rain?” Lightening cracked again. “Fine, take my coat you whiner.” Bernard stripped off his coat and thrust it at Manny and pushed him towards the door.

Manny shrugged again and put the coat on. Bernard shoved him out the door and flipped the sign to closed. Bernard immediately went to the empty bookcase and tried to push it back against the wall. He grunted and struggled. It didn’t budge. He gave up and slumped against the edge of his desk. He grabbed the bottle from earlier, but found it disappointingly empty. He headed to the back to fetch another. While he was gone Manny returned.

“Just forgot my lunch,” Manny said. Looking behind the bookcase, he noticed a door frame.

Bernard returned swigging from a new bottle. He was startled to see Manny looking behind the bookcase and rushed over.

“Did you know there was a door back here?” Manny asked.

Bernard tried to cover the opening, “No there isn’t.”

“It’s right there,” Manny said pointing.

Bernard looked over his shoulder and then said somewhat frantically, “Oh, that. It doesn’t go anywhere. It was bricked up during the war. And it just goes to a closet. Purely decorational. Nothing behind it.”

Manny said, “Are you sure? I bet it goes to a basement. We could use the storage space.”

“No, no basement. We are closed. Go home,” Bernard said.

Bernard silenced Manny’s protests and forced him out the door and this time he locked the door behind him.

 

The next day the bookcase was back in place with all of the books on it. Things seemed to have returned to normal. Manny was sorting through a box of books when Fran came in with a power drill.

“Good morning,” Manny greeted Fran cheerfully.

Fran seemed somewhat irritated, “Where’s Bernard? He insisted that I needed to bring the drill over this morning. He said it was urgent.”

“He ran off to the hardware store. Said he needed to get some screws,” Manny replied.

“Is he finally fixing something around here?” Fran asked.

Manny shrugged, “He didn’t tell me.”

She snorted acknowledgement. Fran put the drill down on Bernard’s desk and picked up a half-empty wine glass. She sipped from it and perused the books for a little bit. Manny noticed her by the bookcase he had moved the previous day. He says, “Did you know that there’s a door behind that bookcase.”

“What?! No there isn’t,” Fran snapped. She spilled the wine when she jerked around to face Manny.

“Yes there is, I found it yesterday while doing some cleaning.”

“Oh that. It doesn’t go anywhere. It was boarded up when they divided up the store front. Use to open to the next store over. Nothing behind it now,” Fran said quickly.

Manny smiled, “Bernard said it went to a closet.”

“Or that. Yes, a closet in the next store over. So they boarded it up.”

“Right, but why would you board up a closet? It might go to a basement,” Manny said.

“Probably not, they filled in loads of basements during the war. Oh look at the time. I really must go do that thing,” Fran said and turned and fled.

“I’ll tell Bernard about the drill then?” Manny asked but Fran was gone. “Alright then.” Manny goes back to reading the book that Fran had interrupted.

 

The next morning, as Manny entered, Bernard was drilling furiously and swearing. The books were once again empty from the mysterious bookcase.

“Stupid, drill, stupid ah drill tip thing, stupid useless *#@#%!” Bernard grumbled.

Manny helpfully supplied, “It’s called a bit.”

“Whaa!?” Bernard asked glaring.

Manny replied, “The drill tip thing, it’s called a bit. I worked as a carpenter’s assistant for a summer. Would you like a hand?”

“Oh did you? No, I would not like a hand. It’s labor, any imbecile can labor. Go do something hard, write a book on the necessity of beards to home repair or some such nonsense,” Bernard snapped.

Manny asked, “Are you using the right bit? It might need a Phillips?”

“Who?” Manny pointed at the drill. “They give them proper names? A bunch of superstitious nonsense. This _Steven_ Bit and I are just doing fine. Go.”

Bernard struggled and mumbled more unable to get the screws to set. Manny watched patiently. Finally, after more failed attempts Bernard turned in snide defeat, “Fine. It was time for a “break” anyways, that is what you lay-abouts call them isn’t it?”

Manny popped up to the bookcase happily, picking up the drill while Bernard picks up a half empty wine glass and sniffs it suspiciously. He took a testing sip and winced spitting the wine back into the cup. He stared at it briefly and then shrugged and took another sip.

“I’ve found the problem,” Manny said.

“Oh have you. What is it then?” Bernard asked in irritation.

Manny held up several assorted rusty pieces of metal, “These are nails not screws.”

“Oh spare me your workmen’s jargon, they’re metal and pointy right? Then use them to affix the bookcase to the wall,” Bernard snapped.

Manny shrugged and retrieved a hammer from between two books on a neighboring bookshelf.

Bernard asked, “Where did you get that from?”

Manny pointed to the label above the books, “The home improvement section.”

Bernard considered this briefly and then nodded acceptance of this as reasonable. He took another sip of the wine and again spit it out into the glass in disgust. He didn’t put it down. Manny began driving nails into the back of the bookcase. He put in four or five.

“What’s this for then?” Manny asked.

Bernard said defensively, “Costumer safety, obviously. The bookcase was loose. It could have tipped forwards at any moment. Just imagine a poor mother, her child clutched in her arms. Coming to purchase a book on . . “ he read the section label “. . on new age religion and philosophy and suddenly she is crushed to death. The child orphaned.”

“Wouldn’t the child be crushed too?”

Bernard mocked, “No, the child wouldn’t be crushed. She would shelter it with her body, you monster.” Bernard took a swig of the wine and then spitting it out with a facial twitch he put the glass down, “It needs to breath a bit more.”  

“Oh, right. Should I start on the next one then?” Manny asked.

“What, why?”

“Safety of the costumers, orphaned children?” Manny said in confusion.

Bernard rolled his eyes, “What a load of bollocks. Health and safety gone mad. No, our young mothers will have to be happy with new age religion and philosophy. The rest can fend for themselves. Serve them right too. ”

“Okay then,” Manny shrugged and set off to other tasks.

 

Fran was meandering about the shop. Manny spotted her, “Oh, I think we’re all done with your drill.”

He retrieved it from under a pile of newspaper and handed it to her, “What do you have a drill for?”

“Men. Young fit ones that are good with their hands. You just wait until they walk by and then stand outside your flat looking helpless. Like flies into a spider’s web,” Fran said, she stared ahead dreamily remembering one of those encounters.

“I see.”

“What did Bernard want it for?” Fran asked. She was still fondly remembering a former tryst.

Manny said, “He was going on about a book shelf collapsing and someone being crushed to death. Said he had to make sure the book case didn’t come off the wall.”

“What?! He told you?” Fran yelped in surprise, suddenly snapped out of her revelry. She processed for a second. Then she fixed her eyes on Manny with a disturbing smile, “But you’re not going to tell anyone, are you Manny? After all these years, it’s better to just let sleeping dogs lie. Telling wouldn’t help anyone. And think of Bernard, keeping my secret all these years must have weighed so heavily on Bernard. You wouldn't throw that all away, would you? If he told you, it must mean he truly trusts and respects you. Are you someone _I_ can depend on?”

Fran was practically purring at Manny, having drawn in close. She looked at him helplessly.

“What? Who would I tell about it?” Manny asked in confusion.

Fran smiled in relief, “Exactly. No one needs to know about the body in the basement.”

“The what in the what?” Manny said in surprise and he pulled away from Fran.

“What? I thought Bernard told you? Oh shit,” Fran said.

Manny glanced around the shop suspiciously, but it was empty. Regardless he leaned in close to whisper conspiratorially, “There’s a body in the basement?”

“Oh no, no, no. I thought Bernard told you,” Fran said almost in tears.

Manny said again, though mostly to himself, “There’s a body in the basement? So Bernard, oh, and you with closet, bricked up in the war, no basement, oh, and Bernard with the drill hammer. There’s a body in the basement?”

“Yes, there’s the body of a man _I_ killed. And you better keep your mouth shut about it,” Fran said sternly.

“Or what?” Manny said apprising Fran trying to assess how much a threat she was.

“Oh, don’t be like that. It was an accident . And he was old,” Fran said desperately.

Manny stared at her in disbelief, “You killed an old man.”

“It was while I was at Uni, I use to come here to get away for a bit. Bernard would let students sit and read here. It was a wonderful place. There use to be a basement area with even more books.

Then one day this creep from the University showed up, a pencil pushing wanker. He did administration. He would show up at all the bars and hit on all the girls. The night before it happened I threw a beer in his face and told him that if I ever saw him again I would kill him. But it was an accident. I didn’t even see him. I was reaching for a book on the top shelf and I stepped on the lowest shelf to get a little more height. The whole thing shifted and several heavy books came crashing down. When I looked over he was lying on the ground skull busted in. It was awful. Everyone had heard me threaten him. No one would have believed it was an accident.

Bernard that poor sweet man checked for a pulse. I wasn’t sure if we should call the police, but we talked it through and Bernard took the handle off the door and put bookcases in front of it and pretended there was no basement at all. For years he has been forced to stay here guarding my terrible crime. Bernard had big plans, he loved working with customers. But he’s been stuck here rotting away ever since. Don’t you see Manny, you can’t tell? What if Bernard had gone through all that suffering for me, just to have it all come out now?” Fran explained. She looked at Manny imploringly.

Manny put his head in his hands, “Oh, why did you have to tell me? I nap in this book shop.”

Fran took out a cigarette and light it up. She handed it to Manny along with a flask from her purse, “Here these help.”

Manny took a puff and a swig.

 

Manny was in the shop alone again. He stared around suspiciously. Some fan in the ventilation turned on and Manny jumped. He swung a broom wildly and knocked some books over. He tried to calm himself, “Ghosts aren’t real. Ghosts aren’t real.”

He settled into a chair still whispering his calming mantra. He lifted a book and started reading. The book was Ghosts Aren’t Real: Dealing with the Supernatural through Denial. Bernard entered the shop and Manny jumped up jabbing the broom at Bernard’s face. Bernard batted the broom away with his hand.

“Has your beard finally eaten your brain? What the hell is wrong with you?” Bernard snapped.

Manny said, “Sorry, I’m just nervous.” He looked around and then whispered, “Evil spirits could be about.”

Bernard glared at Manny and leaned in and whispered, “Why are we whispering? There’s no one here!” He finished this off by shouting in Manny’s ear.

Manny winced and then explained, “There could be someone or something.”

Bernard said, “Am I going to have to ban you from books without pictures again? What are you scared of this time? Giant spiders? Vampires.”

Manny said, “No, the spirit of the dead man in the basement.”

“What? What are you talking about? There’s no body in the basement. We don’t even have a basement,” Bernard said, a bit too insistently.

“Fran told me. How do you deal with it? Knowing that there’s a body down there. You live here,” Manny said and he shivered in disgust.

Bernard grabbed Manny by the shoulders. “She told you? Why?” Bernard shoved Manny away and processed mumbling to himself. Then he turned and focused on Manny with a disturbing smile, “But you’re not going to tell anyone, are you, you sweet sweet man? After all these years, who would it help? Telling wouldn’t help anyone. Think about Fran’s sacrifice to protect me, would you throw that away? If she told you, it was only because she thought you were a dependable shoulder to cry on. Are you someone _I_ can depend on?”

Manny said, “Of course, of course. It’s noble in a way, to protect Fran . . . Wait, what? Protect you? What do you mean?”

Bernard said, “Well you know, how Fran kept my secret for years. She probably should have just called the police, but that dear woman helped me cover up my mistake. It was an accident of course, but who would believe me?”

“Believe you?” Manny asked, confused.

Bernard said, “Ah, I guess Fran didn’t tell you that part. I had a “disagreement” with the man, the previous day. I punched him in the face. A trifling thing, but you know how courts of law are. I was supposed to have the wiring in the basement fixed. But wiring is so damn expensive and it was fine for forty years before I bought the shop. It should have been fine for forty more. Well, that bastard comes to the shop and he goes down into the basement. The lights flickered and I hear a crash and as soon as I saw him lying there with his pile of books I knew what had happened.

Fran bless her heart was down there when it happened. Fran checked him and he was dead. I would have called an ambulance, but what was the point? Fran helped me block the door. All these years she’s kept it secret, the only person I could depend on. The cops came around looking for him a few days later. Now I know to keep my eye on every costumer, they're all just trying to die and frame you for their murder.”

Manny was very confused by this point, “But Fran said that she killed the man. By knocking books onto him.”

“No, no, it was sweet of her, but she was probably just trying to protect me,” Bernard said sadly.

Manny glanced back and forth trying to make sense of what he had heard. Bernard went to the back to search for cigarettes after he failed to find any in his pockets. Manny tried to speak several times, but was uncertain what to say. Then Fran walked in.

“Oh, hello Manny,” Fran said.

Manny hesitantly said, “Ah, Fran, remember earlier when you were telling me about the man in the basement?”

“Oh lord Manny. Don’t talk about it. Best to just pretend it didn’t happen,” Fran said.

Manny nodded, “Well the thing is, I was talking to Bernard just now and he said he was the one who killed the guy in the basement.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of him, even now trying to protect me. It’s okay Manny,” Fran said.

Bernard walked back in, Fran said to him, “Bernard you don’t have to pretend that you killed the man in the basement, I already talked with Manny.”

“Yes, I know. I explained the whole terrible business with the electrocution,” Bernard said.

“Electrocution?” Fran said in surprise, “You mean falling books.”

“No, the electrocution by the faulty wiring I didn’t replace. What falling books?” Bernard asked.

“The ones I knocked unto his head and crushed his skull with,” Fran said, “You electrocuted him?”

“You crushed him with books?” Bernard said.

“But I thought . . . but you said . . “ Bernard and Fran said together.

Fran said, “All these years, you let me believe that I killed a man when _you_ killed him? You bastard!”

Bernard snapped, “Me? How do you know you didn’t kill him? I’ve been stuck in this little hell-hole for years afraid to get rid of it, in case someone finds the body of the man _you_ killed. I thought you were protecting me.”

The two continued to scream at each other, venting years of guilt, frustration, and anger. A costumer walked in. Manny popped over and greeted the man. He lead him to the section he was interested in and suggested a book. He rang the man up as the two continued to shout and then walked him to the door and waved good bye. Then Manny walked back over to the two of them.

“. . . and another thing. Your hair doesn’t make you look like a genius or mysterious. It just looks stupid. Jesus Christ Bernard, buy a comb,” Fran yelled.

Bernard in offended shock said, “You take that back right now. Too far. I’ll swear I’ll call the police right now.”

“And tell them what, that you killed a man and hid his body in your basement for more than a decade?” Fran countered.

Manny interrupted timidly, “Uh, Bernard? Fran? There is a way we can find out what killed him.”

“Shut up Manny!” Fran and Bernard shouted together.

Fran and Bernard glared at each other coldly. Manny stood back.

Finally Bernard snapped, “How?”

Manny asked hesitantly, “Uh, how what?”

“How can we tell who actually killed him? You great bearded oaf,” Bernard shouted.

“Oh, well, if he’s still in the basement. You could check the body. If the skull’s cracked he was killed by falling books. If not, by electrocution,” Manny suggested.

“Oh, you make it sound so simple, but it’s not,” Bernard said, then he and Fran met eyes and they were across the shop pulling books off the shelves and pulling at the bookcase. They had the door open in a surprisingly small amount of time. Manny stood watching as Bernard disappeared into the basement and Fran followed after.

“What the fuck?” A shout came from the basement. There was banging around and lots more cursing.

Bernard and Fran reappeared from the doorway and slumped into chairs in defeat. Manny stared at them expectantly, “Well, what did you find?”

“There’s no body,” Fran said.

Bernard said, “It must have rotted away or been carried off by rats. I need a drink.”

“I need two,” Fran said. Bernard retrieved two bottles of wine. He handed one to Fran and began using a corkscrew on his own. Fran pulled a corkscrew from her own purse.

“But if there’s no body, how do you know he’s actually dead?” Manny asked.

Bernard said snidely, “The doors been blocked for more than a decade, what would he have been eating?”

“The coal chute? He might have climbed out,” Manny suggested hopefully.

“Manny, you have been very helpful. So please take this in the kindest way possible, when I tell you to bugger off,” Bernard said.

Fran seconded, “Go away Manny.”

Manny fled shortly thereafter, turning the sign to closed as he left. Fran and Bernard continued to drink, staring ahead in defeat.

Bernard broke the silence, “You know, I would have lied for you. If I had known you had killed him.”

Fran nodded, “I know Bernard. I would have lied for you too.”

 

**More than a decade before hand**

Fran entered the book shop with a smile on her face. Black Books was her favorite book store. Bernard was so friendly and not a snob like the clerks at the other book stores near the University. He was patient with even the most frustrating costumers and was always happy to give recommendations. Bernard was just ringing up some costumers.

“And that comes to ten pounds fifty. This is one of my favorites, I’m sure you’re going to love it. Come back and let me know what you thought,” Bernard said with a smile as he made change.

Fran waved and Bernard waved back and finished the transaction. Fran approached, “Bernard, how’s it going today?”

“Very well, thank you for asking. Is there anything I can help you find today Fran?” Bernard asked.

“No, I’m just going to browse the classics in the basement. Then I might just sit and read for a while,” Fran said.

Bernard said, “If you keep reading all the books here without buying them, you’re going to put me out of business.” But his smile showed that he didn’t mind Fran reading in the store.

Fran smiled, “I wouldn’t want to do that. Bernard, a group of my friends is going out to a club tonight. Would you like to join us?”

“I appreciate the offer, but you know I don’t drink,” Bernard said.

“Oh well, maybe some other time,” Fran said and she went into the basement.

Bernard looked around the shop and then realized that he should probably call the distributor and order a few more of the recent best sellers. He picked up the phone and dialed. He said cheerfully, “Hello . . . “

While Bernard was on the phone, the creepy administrator from Fran’s University came rushing down the street. He was looking over his shoulder nervously. In his pocket was an envelope stuffed with £107,000 of money he had embezzled, the last bit he needed to flee the country. They were starting to get suspicious. Mr. Douglas had said he needed to discuss some discrepancies in the accounts with him, right before he had fled from the office with the envelope of money. Mr. Douglas had called for security.

Spotting a police car down the street, he ducked into the first shop he passed, Black Books. He looked around, he spotted Bernard on the phone. The creepy man recognized Bernard as the man who had yelled at him and punched him in the face, just because he had knocked over a snot-nosed child in his way and then stepped on the disgusting little thing’s hand. He didn’t think Bernard had recognized him yet. He was out of breath, but he shuffled over to a door that seemed to lead to stairs down. He would hide in the basement until the police had moved on.

He spotted a young college girl reaching for a book high on the shelf. He was bending over to try to stare up her skirt when he felt suddenly light headed. He was not in good shape and fleeing two miles from his office then ducking down stairs then crouching to look up a girls dress had taken too much out of him. As he lost consciousness, he knocked books to the floor and his flailing hand struck the light switch. Fran yelped in surprise. Bernard rushed down the stairs and turned the lights back on.

They both crouched to look at the man. They looked at each other.

“Bernard, I know him,” Fran said.

Bernard said, “I do too.”

The both examined the body and turned him on his side. Fran asked, “Checked for a pulse?”

Bernard was distracted and didn’t realize it was a question, “Oh, good idea.” Fran turned away and put down the book she had been reaching for when the man fainted. She hugged herself.

“Didn’t find one?” Bernard asked, but Fran again missed that it was a question. He took her hand and pulled her upstairs. “Come on, we need to figure this out.”

 “They’re never going to believe it was an accident, what do I do?” Fran asked in panic.

Bernard said, “I’m not sure. If I call the police, after that little altercation, they’re going to think it was murder for sure.”

“Maybe we should still call, maybe they can save his life? Attempted murder is better than murder,” Fran suggested.

“No, if he doesn’t have a pulse now, they’re not going to be able to help him. It would look less suspicious if we called the police,” Bernard said

 The creepy administrator roused from his fainting spell and heard the phrase, “called the police”. He panicked. Lying very still he felt to make sure the envelope of money was still there and assessed his surroundings. He spotted the coal chute. As soon as they went away he would scramble out through there. 

“Then what do we do Bernard?” Fran asked.

Bernard thought and then then he closed the door to the basement, “We’ll just pretend there’s no basement at all.”

He gave the handle a hard yank and it came off. “Come on help me with this.” The two dragged one of the bookcases in front of the door. “If anyone asks, I’ll say I had to close it because the stairs were dangerous. Fortunately, you’re my only regular.”

“Oh, Bernard,” Fran said and gave him a hug. The two slumped against the bookcase and sank to the floor. 

“I could really use a smoke,” Bernard said, he lit up a cigarette. He offered Fran a cigarette.

Fran shook her head no, “I don’t smoke. My mother always said it was immoral.”

“You just helped hide the body of a dead man,” Bernard said.

Fran nodded and accepted the cigarette, “Ha, this really isn’t how I thought I would be spending my afternoon.”

Bernard nodded, “Me neither.”

Fran coughed on the cigarette. “I can’t just sit here. I need to get out of here.”

Bernard said, “I should probably close early today anyway. Let’s go to a pub.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Fran agreed.

The two left together.

 

The next morning, Bernard woke with the worst headache he had ever had. As he rolled over and vomited into his open night stand drawer, he resolved to never drink again. He rolled back to the middle of the bed and came face-to-face with Fran.

“Ah!” Fran yelped.

“Ah!” Bernard responded.

Fran said, “Okay, calm down.”

“Right,” Bernard agreed.

Fran said, “Let’s agree to never speak of what happened yesterday ever again.”

Bernard nodded and then thought for a second and asked, “Do you mean with the thing in place with the dead man? Or this in the bed right here?”

“Both,” Fran said.

“Oh, right, agreed,” Bernard said.

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly was trying to guess at what terrible thing had happened in their past to turn them into such big misanthropes, since it's obvious from friends and other glimpses that Bernard and Fran use to be somewhat sociable. 
> 
> Also, in my head the creepy administrator ends up as the thing under Bernard's bed, but I couldn't figure out how that happened.


End file.
